Message from Myanmar #5

Tuesday, August 16th, 2011

This is a forwarded email from Mary Anthony in Yangon, Myanmar.
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Useless Life

A farmer got so old that he couldn’t work the fields anymore. So he would spend the day just sitting on the porch. His son, still working the farm, would look up from time to time and see his father sitting there. “He’s of no use any more,” the son thought to himself, “he doesn’t do anything!”
One day the son got so frustrated by this, that he built a wood coffin, dragged it over to the porch, and told his father to get in. Without saying anything, the father climbed inside.
After closing the lid, the son dragged the coffin to the edge of the farm where there was a high cliff. As he approached the drop, he heard a light tapping on the lid from inside the coffin. He opened it up. Still lying there peacefully, the father looked up at his son. “I know you are going to throw me over the cliff, but before you do, may I suggest something?” “What is it?” replied the son. “Throw me over the cliff, if you like,” said the father, “but save this good wood coffin. Your children might need to use it.”

Message from Myanmar #4

Tuesday, August 16th, 2011

This is a forwarded email from Mary Anthony in Yangon, Myanmar.
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The Rain

It was a busy
Morning, about 8:30, when an elderly
Gentleman in his 80’s arrived to have
Stitches removed from his thumb.
He said he was in a hurry as he had an
Appointment at 9:00 am.
I took his vital
Signs and had him take a seat,
Knowing it would be over an hour
Before someone
Would to able to see him.
I saw him looking at his watch and
Decided, since I
Was not busy with another patient,
I would evaluate his wound.
On exam, it was
Well healed, so I talked to one of the
Doctors, got the needed supplies to
Remove his sutures and redress his wound.

While taking care of
His wound, I asked him if he
Had another doctor’s appointment
This morning, as
He was in such a hurry.

The gentleman told me no, that he
Needed to go to
The nursing home to eat breakfast
With his wife. I inquired as to her
Health.

He told me that she had been there
For a while and that she
Was a victim of Alzheimer’s Disease.

As we
Talked, I asked if she would be
Upset if he was a bit late.

He
Replied that she no longer knew
Who he was, that she had not
Recognized him in
Five years now.

I was surprised, and asked him,
‘And you still go every
Morning, even though she
Doesn’t know who you are?’

He smiled as he
Patted my hand and said,

‘She doesn’t
Know me, but I still know who she is.’

I had to hold back
Tears as he left, I had goose bumps
On my arm, and thought,

‘That is
The kind of love I want in my life.’

True love is
Neither physical, nor romantic.

True love is an
Acceptance of all that is,
Has been, will be, and will not
Be.

Message from Myanmar #3

Tuesday, August 16th, 2011

This is a forwarded email from Mary Anthony in Yangon, Myanmar.

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The New Alphabet

A is for apple, and B is for boat, that used to be right, but now it won’t float! Age before beauty is what we once said, but let’s be a bit more realistic instead.

Now The Alphabet:

A’s for arthritis;

B’s the bad back,

C’s the chest pains, perhaps car-di-ac?

D is for dental decay and decline,

E is for eyesight, can’t read that top line!

F is for fissures and fluid retention,

G is for gas which I’d rather not mention.

H high blood pressure–I’d rather it low;

I for incisions with scars you can show.

J is for joints, out of socket, won’t mend,

K is for knees that crack when they bend.

L ‘s for libido, what happened to sex?

M is for memory, I forget what comes next.

N is neuralgia, in nerves way down low;

O is for osteo, bones that don’t grow!

P for prescriptions, I have quite a few, just give me a pill and I’ll be good as new!

Q is for queasy, is it fatal or flu?

R is for reflux, one meal turns to two.

S is for sleepless nights, counting my fears,

T is for Tinnitus; bells in my ears!

U is for urinary; troubles with flow;

V for vertigo, that’s ‘dizzy,’ you know.

W for worry, now what’s going ’round?

X is for X ray, and what might be found.

Y for another year I’m left here behind,

Z is for zest I still have– in my mind!

I’ve survived all the symptoms, my body’s deployed, and I’m keeping twenty-six doctors fully employed!

HAVE A GREAT DAY !

Message from Myanmar #2

Tuesday, August 16th, 2011

Forwarded story from Mary Anthony in Yangon.

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The Fox and The Rooster

Once there was a fox sneaked into a farm and grabbed a prize rooster. The farmer saw him and raised the alarm to his dogs, and they started chasing the thief. The fox, though he was holding the rooster in his mouth, was running very fast. “Get him! Get him!” shouted the farmer to his dogs. “No!” suddenly screamed the rooster. “Don’t come near me!” “My master was very cruel to me,” explained the rooster to the fox. “Tell him to stay away from me.” The fox was delighted. “He wants you to stay away from him!” he shouted at the farmer, in the process releasing his hold on the rooster. The rooster flew up into a tree and stayed there till he was rescued by his master. Think twice before you open your mouth to speak.

Message from Myanmar #1

Tuesday, August 16th, 2011

This is a forwarded story from Mary Anthony of Yangon, Myanmar.

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My wife called, ‘How long will you be with that newspaper? Will you come here and make your darling daughter eat her food?

I tossed the paper away and rushed to the scene. My only daughter, Sindu, looked frightened; tears were welling up in her eyes. In front of her was a bowl filled to its brim with curd rice. Sindu is a nice child, quite intelligent for her age.

I cleared my throat and picked up the bowl. ‘Sindu, darling, why don’t you take a few mouthful of this curd rice? Just for Dad’s sake, dear’.

Sindu softened a bit and wiped her tears with the back of her hands. ‘Ok, Dad. I will eat – not just a few mouthfuls, but the whole lot of this. But, you should…’ Sindu hesitated. ‘Dad, if I eat this entire curd Rice, will you give me whatever I ask for?’

‘Promise’. I covered the pink soft hand extended by my daughter with mine, and clinched the deal. Now I became a bit anxious. ‘Sindu, dear, you shouldn’t insist on getting a computer or any such expensive items. Dad does not have that kind of money right now. Ok?’

‘No, Dad. I do not want anything expensive’. Slowly and painfully, she finished eating the whole quantity. I was silently angry with my wife and my mother for forcing my child to eat something that she detested.

After the ordeal was through, Sindu came to me with her eyes wide with expectation. All our attention was on her.

‘Dad, I want to have my head shaved off, this Sunday!’ was her demand.

‘Atrocious!’ shouted my wife, ‘A girl child having her head shaved off? Impossible!’

‘Never in our family!’ My mother rasped. ‘She has been watching too much of television. Our culture is getting totally spoiled with these TV programs!’

‘Sindu, darling, why don’t you ask for something else? We will be sad seeing you with a clean-shaven head.’

‘Please, Sindu, why don’t you try to understand our feelings?’ I tried to plead with her.

‘Dad, you saw how difficult it was for me to eat that Curd Rice’. Sindu was in tears. ‘And you promised to grant me whatever I ask for. Now, you are going back on your words. Was it not you who told me the story of King Harishchandra, and its moral that we should honor our promises no matter what?’

It was time for me to call the shots. ‘Our promise must be kept.’

‘Are you out of your mind?’ chorused my mother and wife.

‘No. If we go back on ourpromises, she will never learn to honour her own. Sindu, your wish will be fulfilled.’

With her head clean-shaven, Sindu had a round-face, and her eyes looked big and beautiful.

On Monday morning, I dropped her at her school. It was a sight to watch my hairless Sindu walking towards her classroom. She turned around and waved. I waved back with a smile. Just then, a boy alighted from a car, and shouted, ‘Sinduja, please wait for me!’ What struck me was the hairless head of that boy. ‘May be, that is the in-stuff’, I thought.

‘Sir, your daughter Sinduja is great indeed!’ Without introducing herself, a lady got out of the car, and continued, ‘that boy who is walking along with your daughter is my son Harish. He is suffering from… leukemia’. She paused to muffle her sobs. ‘Harish could not attend the school for the whole of the last month. He lost all his hair due to the side effects of the chemotherapy. He refused to come back to school fearing the unintentional but cruel teasing of the schoolmates. Sinduja visited him last week, and promised him that she will take care of the teasing issue. But, I never imagined she would sacrifice her lovely hair for the sake of my son! Sir, you and your wife are blessed to have such a noble soul as your daughter.’

I stood transfixed and then, I wept. ‘My little Angel, you are teaching me how selfless real love is!’
The happiest people on this planet are not those who live on their own terms but are those who change their terms for the ones whom they love…